


Silver Linings

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Set in the "New Music" verse. Kara is back in Caprica for her college break. She and Laura both have dates -- which don't go quite as planned. (In the NM timeline, this would be set shortly before Laura's Secretary of Education appointment and before Laura has met Bill or Kara has begun dating Lee.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Linings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanalucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [New Music](https://archiveofourown.org/works/976774) by [Laura_Mayfair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair). 



> Written for lanalucy's birthday. Happy birthday!! Big, huge thank you to newnumbertwo for beta, idea-bouncing, and general good cheer!! You ladies are the best.

The bathroom hadn’t been this messy in months. Damp towels were draped over the curtain rod and the countertop was strewn with beauty products. One of the vanity drawers had been left half-opened. Laura checked her reflection in the steam smudged mirror, smiling at what the chaos surrounding her represented. She closed the drawer with her hip.

“ Mom -- the red one or the black one?”

Laura turned her head and looked at the two dresses Kara was holding up for her appraisal from the hallway.

“The black one.”

“Hah, I knew you’d pick that one. Of course, now I have to wear the red one. A girl can’t wear the dress her mother recommended on a first date.”

Laura smirked. “How do you know I’m not one step ahead of you and didn’t pick that one on purpose so you’d choose the other one?”

“Well, hot damn, that’s so dang manipulative of you, Madame Secretary.”

“I do try. And that appointment’s still just a rumor. Nothing’s been confirmed yet.”

“Mmmm, we’ll see,” said Kara. She shook the black dress at Laura. “I’m taking your advice. This one actually does have its merits. It doesn’t need to be ironed.”

Laura pulled the hair dryer out of the top drawer of the vanity. “Honestly, I like them both, If you want to wear the red one, I’ll iron it for you. You can have the bathroom, honey. My hair takes forever to dry.” She opened the closet and pulled out two of the fluffiest towels for Kara, placing them on the countertop. It was so good to have her home, even if only for a little while. Her end-of-semester breaks were never long enough for Laura.

Kara tugged at the sleeve of her bathrobe. “Not so fast, Mom. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t have a clue. Marcia sprang this on me last minute. You shower. I’ll fight with my hair. And then we can reconvene, okay?”

“Deal,” said Kara.

* * *

An hour later Kara and Laura were rifling through their purses doing a last minute phone and key check.

“Whatever happened to Lee?” asked Laura. “And where did you meet this musician?”

“Lee doesn’t know I’m alive.” Kara watched as her mother applied lipstick with such easy finesse. She never used a mirror and the application came out shimmering and flawless every time. “I met Nick at a club with Helo.”

“I highly doubt Lee doesn’t know you’re alive,” said Laura nudging Kara’s shoulder with a coy smile.

“No. Really. Lee’s oblivious.” She didn’t want to talk about Lee, not after the half-botched semi-kiss that seemed to have dumped them into a whole new level of awkward. “So a doctor, huh?” mused Kara. “Impressive.”

“Marcia’s fix-ups usually end in disaster,” said Laura, zipping up her make-up bag. “I’m not optimistic. He’s a neurologist.”

“So where’s Dr. Brain taking you?”

Laura wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “ _Altura_. Shouldn’t you be leaving soon?”

Kara laughed. “You haven’t changed. You don’t want me to meet him.” Her mother had always been so careful about whom she’d bring around. The number of men she’d dated -- or allowed Kara to _know_ she’d dated -- amounted to a whopping two.

“You’re half-right. I don’t want him to meet _you._ Not until -- “

“ -- not until you know more about him,” finished Kara. It was a familiar litany. “Mom, you do realize I’m twenty-one years old, right? I fly Vipers, wield guns, and generally kick ass. You should be making good use of my date-screening abilities. Creep. Not a creep. Ten minutes is all I need.”

Laura cupped her cheek. “Caprica traffic is horrendous on a Friday night. Be careful. And I’m not meeting Craig here anyway. We’re meeting at the restaurant. I don’t --”

“ -- bring strange men back to your apartment on a first date. Yes, yes. I know.” She gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you if I’m not going to come home, okay?”

Laura gave a terse nod but she didn’t say anything.

“Oh, my gods, don’t look at me like that!” Kara laughed.

Laura shrugged her shoulders. “What? I thought that was a very neutral expression. Just wait until you have children someday. The instinct to lock them up until they’re thirty-five is very strong. Have fun. Really. And call me if you need anything.”

“I expect a progress report or two about you and Neuro-Man,” sang Kara as she sailed out the door.

* * *

 The city was hopping. Kara had almost forgotten how crowded Caprica could be on a Friday night. The streets were lined with rows and rows of cars. There wasn’t a parking space in sight. She circled around a few more times and finally got lucky when someone pulled out of one of the metered spaces. She sifted through her bag searching for change -- only to come up empty handed. _Frak._ She’d borrowed one of her mom’s purses to match her little black dress, but of course this one didn’t have any loose change in it.

With a grumpy sigh, she dashed across the street to a yuppie-infested coffee shop, paid way too much for a crappy cup of coffee she had no intention of drinking, and rushed back to her car. She was gone less than five minutes but already there was a bright pink slip of paper waiting for her, neatly tucked under her windshield wiper.

Kara placed the cup of coffee on the hood of her car and leaned over to snatch up the parking ticket. Her elbow must have jostled the cup and dislodged the lid, because, the next thing she knew, she was clutching a soggy parking ticket and staring down at her ruined dress.

“Mother frakker!” An elderly couple passing by shot her an affronted look. _Oh, please._ Like at their age they’d never heard the word frak before. Kara tossed them her most winsome smile. At least the coffee wasn’t hot enough to scald. Maybe Nick was a coffee aficionado. Perhaps the smell of overpriced coffee and souring cream would be a turn on rather than a deal breaker. Who knew?

Cold water. That’s what she needed. She could sneak into the ladies’ room before Nick even saw her and do some damage control. Kara punched a quick text message to her mom as she made a beeline for the restaurant. _Hope your date’s going better than mine is. Got parking ticket. Spilled coffee all over front of dress. And I haven’t even met up with Nick yet._

The water trick prevented the stain from setting but Kara still smelled like a latte and damn the place was packed. People clamored for tables in the small entryway. Maneuvering through the cluster of bodies felt more like an intimate act than simple crowd navigation. A snake-like line circled all the way outside. _The Strand_ was situated in the trendy upper side of town, an area popular among college students and artists, nouveau riche creative types. It wasn’t exactly Kara’s scene but she’d heard the entertainment was good.

She made her way through the crowd and began scanning the tables for Nick. She was doing her second sweep of the room when she felt a tap on her arm. She turned. A waitress grinned at her, balancing a tray of drinks with her free arm. She beamed at Kara like they were in on some great secret or had just shared the funniest private joke ever.

“Kara?”

“Um….yeah. That’s me.”

“Your table’s this way. Come on.”

 _The Strand_ didn’t have a hostess. Nick said he’d done open-mic night here a few times so maybe he’d just asked one of his waitress friends to keep an eye out for her. Polite. Not necessary. But polite. Kara followed the woman toward the far side of the restaurant to a row of tables lining the windows. She noticed a trail of pale pink confetti all over the floor. No, not confetti. _Rose petals._ They’d been scattered like a breadcrumb trail leading right up to their table, which was covered with -- _more_ rose petals.

“Where’s -- “

A bright light in her face had Kara seeing a disorienting kaleidoscope of spots. The waitress nudged her shoulder and motioned toward the stage. When her vision cleared, there was Nick, dark haired and handsome as ever. He shouldered his guitar, grinning at her with a smile that felt much too intimate for a first date greeting. The whole thing was so outrageous Kara half-expected Helo to spring out from some obscure hiding place to gloat over the well-orchestrated prank.

No such luck.

“This one’s for my girlfriend, Kara.” Nick swept an arm out in her direction -- because the spotlight shining down on her like a tracking beacon wasn’t enough of an indicator she was the lucky girl with Mr. Crazy. _Girlfriend._ They’d met at a bar and he’d asked her out on a date. There was no established relationship in progress here. Apparently the creep-radar she’d been bragging about to her mother earlier wasn’t so reliable after all.

Nick began to sing and Kara decided parking tickets and coffee spills were the best part of her evening compared to this. She wasn’t sure what was worse -- the nasal whine that was supposed to be singing or the tinny clang of the guitar as he mauled the poor instrument into submission.

The waitress sighed. “Wow, that’s so romantic.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty unbelievable,” giggled Kara as she eyed the nearest exit.

* * *

 Marcia hadn’t exaggerated about Craig’s appearance. He was handsome -- tall, broad-shouldered, and lean, and with a million dollar smile to boot. His hair was salt and pepper gray. Coupled with his glasses, the look gave him a distinguished air that didn’t feel pretentious. He held the door for Laura, pulled out her chair, and even asked her what she’d like to drink before placing their order. Maybe her blind date track record was on an upturn.

“I have to tell you, Laura,” he said, after the waiter left to get their drinks, “you are frakking gorgeous. I mean -- wow.”

Or -- maybe not.

She cringed. “I’m glad I meet your standards.”

He didn’t seem to get her sarcasm, or maybe he just didn’t care. He emitted a low whistle that simmered down to an appalling hum of approval.

“Your pictures don’t even do you justice.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “My pictures?”

“Marcia mentioned you used to play piano -- professionally. I looked you up. Talented _and_ beautiful.” He grinned at her. “I imagine you’re good at other things, too.”

Laura blinked, stunned by his audacity. How could this idiot be a doctor?

He placed his elbows on the table and leaned in. “Thank you.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s customary to say thank you when someone gives you a compliment.”

Laura laughed. “Ah. Right.”

She picked up her napkin and gave it a sharp flick before tossing it on the table. Her chair scraped against the hardwood floor when she pushed it back, a shrill sound that drew the attention of the couple sitting at the adjacent table. Laura smiled at them. This man was not worth a scene.

“Thank you, Craig. Thank you for making this so easy.” She opened her purse and pulled out enough money to cover the glass of wine he’d ordered for her as well as the tip. She placed the bills on the table.

His perplexed scowl wasn’t nearly satisfying enough but it was a marked improvement over his slimy leer.

“I thought we were having a good time."

“No,” said Laura, her voice a caustic lilt, “Maybe _you_ were having a good time. But _I_ certainly wasn’t.”

"Look," he backpedaled, "maybe I came on a little strong. I'm sorry." He patted the table. "Come on. Stay."

He actually looked like he thought she would.

Laura turned and left without another word.

* * *

 Traffic was lighter now. Most Capricans had arrived at their Friday night dinners and parties and concerts. Laura stopped for a red light. She watched as a smattering of droplets fell against her windshield. 

She gripped the steering wheel and waited for the light to change. There were a million things she wished she’d said to Craig. But would someone so inconsiderate, so startlingly superficial, even get it? She carried no illusions about changing his warped view of women. Sexist bigot. But she did wish she hadn’t felt so blindsided by the whole thing, that she’d been able to put him in his place with the perfect comeback. Every response she could come up with seemed so inadequate.

Her phone rang.

She punched the button for the speaker. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Mom. I won’t keep you. You’re probably in the middle of being wooed.” Kara laughed. “But you didn’t answer my text earlier. Status report, please. You can just answer yes or no. Is it looking like the doctor is second-date material?”

“Definitely no. I don't have to speak in code. The date’s over. It was -- well, at least it was brief. Sorry I missed your text. How’s yours going?”

“Going? Oh, it’s long gone. I’m on the road.”

A flutter of panic. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Overprotective-But-Well-Meaning-Mother.”

Laura relaxed. “I was going to grab a pint of ice cream and head home but do you feel like stopping somewhere for a bite? Company would be nice -- if you don’t have other plans.”

“I’m starving. What I really want is a burger.”

“Pazi’s?” suggested Laura.

“Gods, yes!”

“Meet you there.”

* * *

 Kara arrived before Laura. Usually the place was pretty crowded but the dinner rush had already come and gone. She settled into their favorite table, a cozy booth nestled in the back of the diner. She waited, watching the rain fall against the wide window. It was really coming down.

The bell on the restaurant door jingled. Kara heard the familiar click of heels, the brisk gait of their wearer unmistakable. A moment later Laura appeared.

“I ordered a pot of lemon mint tea for us,” said Kara.

“You’re a goddess," said Laura. She closed her umbrella and sat down. "So what happened with your musician?"

Kara explained about the rose petals and the ghastly serenade. Her mother agreed Nick's premature declaration was ultra-bizarre. She almost wished she had a video of the song itself. Nothing she could say to describe it would ever do it justice.

“I think you should be able to mark a cast-off date with a warning label," said Kara. That way the next person doesn't have to start from scratch.”

Laura laughed. "Right on their forehead for the world to see."

"Nick's would read: _Clinger. Lousy musician. Don't be fooled by exterior hotness._ What would you write on Neuro-Man's forehead?"

"'Hmmmm, let's see." Laura took a sip of tea. " _Sexist pig with a huge side of ego. Avoid at all costs._ With a little skull and crossbones tattooed between his eyes."

"Ooh, I like the idea of adding symbols to the text, especially for the really horrible ones. The visuals pack an extra punch."

They were still giggling when the food arrived. They filled up on burgers and fries but Kara made sure she saved room for dessert. She deserved ice cream after such an ordeal and so did her mom.

"I'm stuffed," said Laura.

"Me, too. But I'm still having a sundae. You should share it with me," coaxed Kara. "They have Peanut Butter Volcano."

"We _should_ have ice cream. To ward off future bad dates," said Laura. "It's only right."

Kara grinned. “A protective elixir. I think its magical properties nullify the caloric content."

"Of course they do," agreed Laura, and Kara felt a rush of affection for her mom, for her willingness to go along with her zany nonsense. She did feel better after dinner and commiseration. Who needs therapy when you have an amazing mother and a killer dessert?

"Not a bad way to end the evening," said Laura, polishing off her last spoonful of ice cream. Her smile was bright.

_Nope._

Not a bad way at all.


End file.
